


The Hell I'm In, Your Fantasy

by alacruxe



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Cock Cages, Dom Hubert von Vestra, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Prostate Milking, Sensory Deprivation, Sub Ferdinand von Aegir
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:48:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23206504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alacruxe/pseuds/alacruxe
Summary: Ferdinand is already clearly overwhelmed, his head no doubt a total mess, judging by the way his eyebrows knit and his shoulders twitch and his mouth opens and closes as though hunting for the right words to speak before he must realize he has not gained permission to voice them.It's a strange thought, not to mention a strange situation in which to be thinking it, but Hubert feels as though he's just fallen in love again.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 135





	The Hell I'm In, Your Fantasy

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to [Modes of Address](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163790). It can, however, be read separately, if you're feeling especially frisky.
> 
> It was a challenge for me to write this since I'm definitely on board the "Hubert is a sub" train, but hopefully it's still an enjoyable read!

Ferdinand's only been tied up for about five minutes at maximum and he already looks like he wants out. It's probably the nudity more so than the immobilization that's troubling him, judging by the faint little shivers Hubert keeps catching, but they could just as easily be from nerves as from the cold on his bare skin. Hubert has played the submissive role in these sorts of things more than once, albeit to differing degrees. This is Ferdinand's first time, period. He has every right to be anxious.

"Having second thoughts, Ferdinand?" His tone comes out more teasing than he means it to, because it is a genuine, serious question, and Hubert is tempted to rephrase it. Ferdinand speaks up before he can.

"None at all," Ferdinand insists, batting his eyelashes coyly. His arms are held back in a delicate netting of rope that fully restrains them, while his legs are kept spread apart by a metal rod that prevents him from doing much more than a basic kneel. It's not all that different from their last setup, though Hubert was insistent upon keeping them in the bedroom this time, and Ferdinand has a cushion under his knees. It's less scandalous than the audience chamber floor, but it's safer. That's a compromise Hubert is more than willing to make.

"And you're aware, of course, that you can end this at any point, should you so choose." Hubert levels a firm gaze at Ferdinand. It's one the man meets as unflinchingly as ever.

"I remember the safe word, yes," Ferdinand says, sounding almost exasperated. True, they've had one for some time, even since long before their engagements had become a little more...spicy. It's an insecurity of Hubert's, that fear of failure, of rejection, that drove him to invent one in the first place. He is always ten steps ahead of everyone else, in all things. He _must_ be.

"And you remember the rules, yes?" Hubert lowers himself onto a knee to face Ferdinand directly, on his level, eye to eye. He reaches out with one gloved hand, touches Ferdinand's face, caresses his cheek. He's slightly flushed, and it suits him. Shades of red and pink have always flattered Ferdinand's natural coloring. "You are prohibited from speaking out of turn. You will follow the commands that I give you. Most importantly—"

"You control my release, Master," Ferdinand states plainly, a small smile slowly spreading across his face. "You act as though I am capable of forgetting something so basic. Who in the world do you take me for, Hubert?"

"You are Ferdinand von Aegir," Hubert drawls, standing once more to full height and turning to fetch what he needs. "And you will refrain from making any more such remarks for the remainder of the scene."

Ferdinand remains silent, then, a perfect showing of obedience. Good. He'd best stay that way.

Hubert goes to his nightstand and retrieves his tools of choice: a shiny black blindfold, and a strategically-shaped metal cage. Technically Ferdinand had purchased that device with _him_ in mind, intending to use it as a form of discipline in case Hubert acted out in either of their two previous sessions. There's a certain pleasure in turning that punishment back around on Ferdinand. He's earned it, though, for leaving as many bruises as he did last time. Hubert is still dealing with an ache in his rear every time his hips shift a certain way.

"Hold still," Hubert commands, moving in behind Ferdinand to tie the blindfold. Ferdinand is a good boy, not moving a single muscle, just sitting pretty for Master. Hubert rewards him by stroking his head, petting his hair as he tucks it gently out of the way. "There we are. A shame you can't see yourself. Black silk suits you well."

Ferdinand doesn't reply, only sits, just taking a moment. Probably a good thing; this has to be a lot for him to deal with at the moment. His mouth hangs slightly agape, and his breathing momentarily quickens, then stills. His cheeks are pink.

Seeing that he's stable, Hubert sets to work on the next step. He leans low, almost right between Ferdinand's legs—and the temptation to go further and kiss or stroke his cock almost overpowers him for a moment. Hubert has to remind himself that part of being a good Master is not giving in to such temptations. He must have a steady hand and a stern demeanor if he's to discipline Ferdinand appropriately.

He's at least gentle when he cradles Ferdinand's cock and balls in his hands, and he's careful not to pinch any skin as he locks the cage in place. Ferdinand opens his mouth a bit wider, and he makes this tiny, stilted moan that has Hubert's trousers feeling tighter. Just the sight of it, too, is incredible; Ferdinand is already clearly overwhelmed, his head no doubt a total mess, judging by the way his eyebrows knit and his shoulders twitch and his mouth opens and closes as though hunting for the right words to speak before he must realize he has not gained permission to voice them.

It's a strange thought, not to mention a strange situation in which to be thinking it, but Hubert feels as though he's just fallen in love again.

"There you are," Hubert says as he straightens. He takes Ferdinand's chin in his fingers and tilts it upward, eliciting the quietest little huff. Hubert is not sure if that sound means fear, surprise, or pleasure; regardless, it's a sound he likes to hear. "You've been such a good boy, Ferdinand. Tell me, would you like a reward?"

"Yes, Master," Ferdinand breathes, high-pitched and plaintive. He gasps at the sound of Hubert's belt unbuckling, and he leans forward almost immediately. Hubert barely even has a moment to reach for his cock before Ferdinand is diving down to mouth at it. It's definitely not something he minds, of course, with how good Ferdinand is with his tongue, but it does take him by surprise. If anything, Hubert would have expected Ferdinand to be more hesitant without his sight to aid him. In truth, he seems only more eager to please.

And he _does_ please Hubert, with both little flicks and long swipes of his tongue that massage his whole length. He's adept at finding all the right spots even while blinded, and soon Hubert is the one rendered breathless. "Just like this," he says, getting a healthy grip in Ferdinand's hair and using it to guide him. Ferdinand can't swallow him whole, has issues with gagging even with just the tip in his mouth; but when he's such an expert at licking and kissing where it counts, Hubert can forgive those shortcomings.

He's tempted to let Ferdinand get him off like this, even. He likes the idea of a blindfolded Ferdinand with a cum-striped face, mouth open and moaning for more. Hubert does have other ideas, however, and he's not about to let those fantasies go unfulfilled. Not when their play time has only just begun.

The sound Ferdinand makes when Hubert pulls away almost has him tempted to keep going like that after all. "There, there," he says, soothingly stroking Ferdinand's hair. "You'll get what you want, my dear pet. Everything you desire."

With a dark chuckle, he pulls a small ampoule of massage oil from his pocket. Ferdinand goes completely still, like he's listening closely. When Hubert pops the cork open, Ferdinand _squirms_. "Yes, you know just what's about to happen, don't you? Tell me what I'm about to do to you, Ferdinand."

"F-fuck me," Ferdinand whimpers. It's so pathetic that it's almost charming.

"No, Ferdinand." Hubert ignores the ensuing indignant whine as he moves in behind Ferdinand, slowly shucking his gloves finger by finger. He can tell Ferdinand is paying very close attention to the sound, because he's trembling with anticipation, his skin rippling with goosebumps. "Not just yet. But contain yourself, and I just might."

He gathers a small amount of the oil on a fingertip and nudges it against Ferdinand's rim, the spreader bar making his access easy. Ferdinand really arches into it, too, like he _really_ needs it inside him, and that's so hot that Hubert nearly drops the pretense entirely to just fuck him senseless. At this point, he's not sure whether it's himself or Ferdinand who's being teased worse.

But giving in now would be cowardly, wouldn't it? Hubert can do far better.

He pushes his finger in, but slowly, making sure Ferdinand feels every micrometer of it as it enters him. He's as soft inside as ever, and his internal muscles are surprisingly lax; Hubert would have expected him to be tighter, more on edge, given that he's without all of his senses and lacking in mobility. Perhaps it's a testament to the trust they share, or maybe it's something as mundane as Ferdinand simply sinking so deep into subspace that nothing is fazing him anymore. In any case, Hubert is grateful. It's going to make the rest of this so much easier.

He dabs more of the oil onto a second finger before he draws his hand back to slide both digits in simultaneously, and this time it _is_ a bit of a stretch. Ferdinand still moves with him, eager, taking just what he wants. "Good boy," Hubert murmurs, giving his back a brief scratch with his free hand. It has Ferdinand humming in satisfaction and humping his hand a bit harder. Hubert has to wonder if he's trying to impress his Master, or if he's trying to come. He has to wonder if it's even possible for Ferdinand to come _at all_ like this. He certainly can't get very hard, with the cage trapping his cock at an inconvenient angle.

"Do you like how my fingers feel inside you, Ferdinand?" Hubert croons, rather abruptly curling the tips of his fingers inward on the next thrust. Predictably, Ferdinand gasps, his back going momentarily rigid. Hubert likes to think he's always been good at finding an enemy's weak point, and Ferdinand's is no exception, even if he's not much of an enemy anymore.

"Y-yes," Ferdinand stammers, arching his back to keep Hubert rubbing him just right. He's earned it, so Hubert rewards him. "Yes, I...oh...right there..."

"And do you think I could bring you to completion like this, Ferdinand?" Hubert curls his fingers tighter, pushes down harder into Ferdinand's inner flesh.

" _Yes!_ " Ferdinand's voice completely breaks on the exclamation, like he's fighting tears. Hubert can only imagine what it has to feel like, being stimulated like this while his cock is so torturously neglected. He's had no trouble meeting his own climax untouched before, of course, but not under as dire of circumstances as these.

"Good," Hubert purrs, pulling his hand back to himself. A delightfully sadistic sort of satisfaction tingles pleasantly in his groin when Ferdinand cries out in dismay. Poor little lordling. "Now, now. Not to worry. You'll get your satisfaction soon enough. Please your Master and all will be well."

"Master," Ferdinand whimpers, his tone _adorably_ despondent.

"Shh, there, there." Hubert leaves a soft kiss on the side of Ferdinand's neck as he slicks himself up, readying to finish what he started. "Deep breaths, now."

It already felt heavenly around his fingers, but Ferdinand's ass is even better around his cock, and Hubert lets out a soft sound himself as he slips inside. It's so _easy_ , too, more so than he had anticipated. Hubert likes the more uptight Ferdinand, the one who doesn't submit so easily, but he's finding himself rather smitten with this desperate-to-please Ferdinand, too.

It's a smooth glide when he thrusts, but Hubert keeps the pace slow, wanting to ensure that neither of them gets a little too excited and leads them to an early finish. It really is hard not to move faster and harder, though, when Ferdinand is so sweetly offering himself, and making such lovely little noises each time Hubert brushes something sensitive. "So perfect," Hubert breathes, languidly massaging one of Ferdinand's ass cheeks in the same rhythm as his forward and backward motions.

The longer he goes like this, so teasingly slow, the more restless Ferdinand seems to become. His cute little gasps only grow more wanton, he shivers, he leans—it's a kind of suffering that Hubert loves to see. Even better, he's growing tighter on the inside as he struggles to keep himself under control, and that tension around his cock has Hubert edging closer and closer to the brink by the second.

Ferdinand's gasps turn to whimpers, and from whimpers to cries, and that coupled with the clenching of his ass proves to be Hubert's undoing. He bites his lip as he surges forward, and he holds Ferdinand down, hips to hips, driving as deep as he can reach. He can feel the flutter in Ferdinand's muscles at the sensation of being filled, and he can tell Ferdinand is barely able to hold himself back from a simultaneous release, even with his cock forcibly caged and unstimulated. Hubert holds him down all through his orgasm, making sure he feels every pulse, every shot. That, itself, is a form of praise: the feeling of knowing he's responsible for bringing Hubert such pleasure.

At least, Hubert hopes so. Ferdinand deserves to know how good he's been.

When he's finally satisfied, Hubert pulls out, giving Ferdinand's rear an appreciative little squeeze. A trickle of cum quickly follows from where he's withdrawn, and Hubert quickly slips his fingers back in where they'd been, making sure none of it escapes. "I believe it's time you were given your reward, my pet," Hubert purrs, lazily kissing Ferdinand's neck all the way up to his ear, which he bites hard enough to yield a cry of pleasure-pain. "You did say you could come just from my fingers, did you not?"

"Y-yes, Master," Ferdinand sobs, pushing back hard on Hubert's hand, driving his fingers in deep. They can't reach as far as his cock, but they're certainly long enough to stimulate him where it matters, and Hubert puts all his focus there, milking him without mercy. "Please, oh please, p-please take it off—"

"Yes, I believe you've earned it," Hubert murmurs with another playful nip at Ferdinand's ear. He reaches down and removes the cage easily enough—he'd never needed to lock it, after all, seeing as how Ferdinand couldn't move his arms anyway—and Ferdinand is crying with relief, bucking hard, thrusting up into Hubert's hand before he can pull it away. So greedy, so naughty, and yet Hubert can't find it in himself to punish him. Not when he's been such a good boy this whole time.

Hubert keeps a steady hand around Ferdinand's cock as his fingers continue to fuck him, his cum making it extra slick and easy. Ferdinand is absolutely wailing, too, completely out of control and desperate to get off. Good thing Hubert is more than willing to take him there.

It's not much longer before Ferdinand is right at his edge, his cock seeping precum and his pulse thundering through his veins, his whole body trembling under the strain of holding back. All that it takes is one word, a single whisper, before he breaks: "Come."

And Ferdinand is writhing under Hubert's hands, riding his fingers and humping his fist, driving himself to a completion that must surely be maddening. It's beautiful to watch, seeing Ferdinand submit to such primal needs, and Hubert indulges him, heedless of the pretense of discipline.

It ends soon enough, as Ferdinand exhausts himself, and Hubert is quick to catch him before he can fall. He wraps his arms tight around the man, holding him about his middle, and lets him ease himself backward. Ferdinand simply goes quiet as he lets his tears run dry, as his shakes begin to cease. Hubert can't deny he's a little jealous that Ferdinand doesn't seem to have nearly as long of a refractory period, but this is hardly the time to be bitter. This is a moment to offer comfort, to be a grounding presence.

Ferdinand is the first of the two of them to speak, though his voice is little more than a nasal groan. "I believe I could do without the spreader bar right now," he says, shaking his head against Hubert's shoulder with a breathless cough of a laugh.

"You probably could, yes," Hubert acknowledges. They're both still up on their knees, although Ferdinand is doing little to support his own weight. If Hubert were to back away, Ferdinand would probably tumble to the ground in a boneless heap. Thankfully he has no intention of doing so. "Hold still, then. I will free you."

He still manages to keep Ferdinand propped up against him as he works, unbuckling the cuffs from around Ferdinand's ankles and pulling the bar away along with them. The blindfold is next to go, falling to the floor in an elegant drift. The rope tying his arms together is a bit more of a challenge, especially with it being pretty well sandwiched between their bodies, but Hubert manages to tug on the coils that matter just enough to loosen it, and he slides Ferdinand's limbs free while still maintaining the ornate sleeve-like structure. Surprising. Maybe Hubert really does have a knack for this. He'll have to try some more intricate bindings later, he thinks.

"Much better," Ferdinand sighs, still leaning heavily against Hubert but bringing his arms up in front of himself to rub the circulation back into them. There's a few faint red lines here and there where the rope slightly chafed, but there's no bruising nor blueness, which is good. Ferdinand also doesn't seem terribly bothered by the damage that _is_ present. Otherwise he'd probably be casting a healing spell.

"You enjoyed yourself, I hope," Hubert says.

"I did, yes," Ferdinand replies. There's a smile on his face, one that reaches his eyes. A little uncanny, given what he's just experienced, but Hubert's no stranger to that same satisfaction. "I would like to do it again, in fact. That cage was a wise purchase after all."

"Even if you haven't had the chance to use it on me just yet," Hubert laughs, slowly lifting himself onto his feet and urging Ferdinand to follow. He's unsteady, legs about as reliable underneath him as those of a baby deer, but he's doing his best. They're at least good enough to get him to bed, though he topples into it like rubbish into a wastebin. Hubert fares better, though not by much. Though he's hardly been through as draining an experience as Ferdinand's, he's still exhausted.

They manage to scoot themselves into comfortable enough positions to rest, and almost as soon as they do, Ferdinand is out cold. How enviable. Hubert has to wonder if he learned that technique from Linhardt.

He himself has a harder time sleeping, but that's just as well; they've a mess to clean up.

Hubert gathers the cock cage, the cushion, the cuffs and, really, the whole lot of the mess, and arranges everything into proper piles: these for washing, this for trashing, all of the rest for hiding away where no innocent eyes can see. It takes him less than an hour to have all of it brought to its proper place and laundered if necessary, and soon enough he's returning to their room and slinging himself back up into bed.

Ferdinand stirs when Hubert enters his space, but it doesn't seem he's fully woken. Instead, he's just rolling over, moving to where the warmth is, much like an indolent cat. Hubert just snorts and curls an arm around him, indulging him—and just as soon, Ferdinand is draping an arm over him in turn, cuddling him close like a treasured toy.

It's not the kind of future Hubert ever would have imagined for himself, not the kind of happy ending he ever would have thought he'd deserved...but even if he doesn't deserve it, Hubert thinks that maybe it's all right to be happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once more to [my partner](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrograde) for being a fantastic beta!
> 
> You can also find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alacruxe), where I post a lot of dumb bullshit and refuse to capitalize any letters or properly punctuate.


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